


A Raven's Tale

by panther



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Founders fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panther/pseuds/panther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rowena had always known that she was different, magical. In 8th century Scotland, that is a dangerous thing to be and she keeps it a secret, untrained and unable to fully control her gifts. She is forced to control her situation when another in the village is accused of witchcraft and it pushes her to leave her northern home and go in search of others like her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Raven's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> For suqarquill's Saturday special about Gods. I am no expert in this point in history but I did some research for this and apparently when Rowena was alive was well before it was common to burn those accused of witchcraft and that the church had a policy that it didn't exist. Often it was the person who accused the other who was punished as far as I could find out. Rowena is thought to have been Scottish so I'm writing her as if she is from the northern part of Scotland in the idea that it would be a reason as to why Hogwarts was later built there. Also, it is true that not all of Scotland spoke the same language at this time. This is my take on what would push one of the founders to go looking for other magic users.

Rowena had always known that she was different. It had taken her many years to truly believe that it was a good thing. Before that it had simply resulted in a sort of suffocating fear that made her want to flee the village and run until she could not run any more, run until her thin leather boots tore under her feet, and the burning in her lungs took her to her knees in a damp sodden field far from home. 

She had always been able to do things; things that she could never explain when she had heightened emotions and there had never been any doubt in her mind as to what it was. _Witchcraft_. If she were discovered and lucky, any witnesses would think themselves hallucinating for it was said that witchcraft did not exist in a Christian world and to believe in such things was wrong and punishable by death as a superstition. She did not want blood on her hands. If she were discovered and _not_ lucky however, the villagers would kill her before word spread. 

Every time something flew across the room and into her waiting palm she put herself in danger and yet her skills, her _magic_ , felt natural and empowering. Curiosity pushed her on and she practised when her parents left her alone and exhausted herself with her attempts to find her limitations. Sometimes, she was able to control it and summon things, change things, move things at will and other times it lashed out from within her very core and destroyed her surroundings. As a mere child she had burned their cramped hut to the ground and forced her family to sleep under the pouring rain as they rebuilt their home.

Her early years had been spent in turmoil, a mix of fascination and fear. It felt right to use her gifts but so many died around her as she grew up and she had lost both of her parent by her fourteenth year. She didn't want to die because of something she could hide but she grew to accept that her life would be different from those around her and there was nothing she could do to change that. As long as no one knew, she was safe and her gifts helped her survive. Her prayers went unanswered as the winters grew colder and her heart more lonely and it was her gifts that turned water to wine that warmed her belly. It was the tingling power she sometimes managed to control through her hands that conjured food from nothing and prevented her from starving and she had no need for rubbing sticks together to create fire. 

At sixteen, Rowena was struggling to farm the small patch of land her parents had left her and to fatten up the three boars she has for slaughter later in the year when a stranger came to stay in the village, having married one of the women a year older than Rowena, Maggie. At first, Rowena had not paid him any mind, merely continuing on with her life and trying to carve out an existence for herself from the hard and unforgiving earth. Then, he had been accused of witchcraft and the cold fear from her childhood had returned and settled into Rowena's chest.

It had never happened in _her_ village before. The priest had sent for advice from the town over the hills and the Clan Chief about what to do, whether to punish the accused, the accuser or both. Panic spread throughout the village and mothers keep their children inside as much as possible as people prayed that things would be resolved soon without a blemish on their town. Whispers spread and the more people talked the more Rowena panicked. What if she was accused next? She didn't even know if the the man, Iain, was in fact like her. Magical. 

It didn't really matter if he was. The decision was taken that the accuser would be the one to be punished for his so called crimes. Rowena stood on the edge of the crowd as the priest declared that the accuser, James, had been touched by the Devil and it was he who made this poor man think that witchcraft was possible and that Iain could do things that others could not. The touch of the Devil could not be allowed to spread and the villagers were to pray for him. 

As the villagers nodded and bowed their heads to join the priest in prayer, Rowena slipped away from the centre of the village and began to make her way home, feeling the magic building inside her and waiting for a release. She knew that her life was in danger if it broke free in front of witnesses. Hurrying along the muddy walkways, she pulled at her skirts to keep them as clean as she could and muttered, ' _please no, please no_ ' under her breath before she reached her home and hurried inside, throwing herself down onto the hay covered floor and breathing deeply as her cooking utensils rattled and a chill swept through the small room. 

She knew in that moment that she had to leave. There _must_ be others out there like herself. There surely had to be a way to control her magic and learn to utilise it without it putting her in danger. It obviously existed, and so the priests must be wrong, perhaps her God too. There was no way to find out remaining in the village. Perhaps, further south there would be others like her, in Edinburgh maybe, and she might find the answers for the questions she had spent years pushing to the back of her mind. 

In paralysing fear, Rowena allowed two weeks to pass so that her abrupt departure looks a little less suspicious and then began to spread word that she had one sole relative left and wished to seek him out in the city . She sold the land her parents had left her, slaughtered the boars for food for the journey and used the money she earned to buy a fine horse to ride on her trek. 

 

Rowena had always been bright and curious about the world. If there were others like her, she would find them. The city would be huge, bigger than anything Rowena had ever seen, an alien world where they spoke a different language and lived different lives, but Rowena was not content to sit and wait in fear for her fate. She would go and she would meet it. She knew she was different and by the time she reached maturity, she was certain that she could not be alone.


End file.
